Before that I dreamed I was (erm, how do I put this?) in a situation that would have made an interesting slashfic, only I'm not a guy and therefore am not, erm equipped? Also, the other person in question is someone with whom I'd never even consider being in such a situation (Yeah, yeah, the only thing I dream about ever that resembles sex and it's direct from Bizarro!World and isn't sexy in the least). I fail at dream!sex.
Somewhere in the mix last night I dreamt that Oldest Daughter was pregnant. I was mostly concerned with buying her a Hotsling and making sure she never entered the Baby Factory.
A couple of days ago I dreamt that Stephen Harper was one of my patients (which if true, would have explained a few things), which would have been weird enough if he actually looked like himself. But I wasn't even afforded that tiny bit of realism; no, he had to go and look like the Well-Manicured Man from the X-Files. At least I can console myself that he wasn't the person in Dream #2.
The conclusions might be:
1. Nostalgia is so thirty years ago, so get over it.
2. Fried ice cream might not have been such a good dessert. Also reading lots of con reports in a row.
3. I like Hotslings?
4. I am a giant giant dork even in my dreams.